


Survivor's Guilt

by Rioghna



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Heavy Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post CoE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2269680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rioghna/pseuds/Rioghna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the few stories I ever wrote post Children of Earth.  What happens to Jack after he leaves earth?  And can anyone save him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor's Guilt

Survivor’s Guilt

It was the tenth or eleventh bar he had tried that particular day and the quality of the establishments had been steadily decreasing for a solid week. To call the place he had just entered a dive would have been a serious insult to dives in several galaxies and seedy was downright complimentary. Despite his own less than savoury tendencies, if he had to go much lower he was going to have to give serious consideration to a new set of jabs, some broad spectrum antibiotics, and possibly a level 12Alpha4 biohazard suit. Not that it would matter to the person he was looking for, however. 

The man scanned the room, one hand on his blaster, the other on the hilt of his sword, not threatening, just enough for people to think twice. Not that most people who locked eyes with him did think more than once, his current mood made the chances even slimmer. At the back he spotted an almost familiar shape tucked in a booth by himself. He started back purposefully when the barman found his nerve. “Don’t want any trouble,” the silver skinned alien said, trying for authoritarian and failing. The man just nodded.

His quarry didn’t look up when he approached. Probably best, he wouldn’t have been able to contain his shock. The man once called Captain Jack Harkness sat huddled with his back to the wall. His dark hair was long, lank, and filthy as was the rest of him. His face was covered with what for Jack could easily have been several months worth of beard, his clothes were filthy, and the grey coat he wore at all times was mysteriously darker, with what, he didn’t want to hazard a guess. “Don’t need anything, go away,” he said without even looking up. The once beautiful voice was harsh and practically unrecognizable. For the first time in more years than he cared to admit, John Hart felt tears threatening. He took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. The stink of the place was barely more tolerable than Jack himself, a man who had always taken great pains with both his appearance and hygiene. 

Instead of saying any of the things he wanted to, he slid into the opposite side of the booth, grabbed the bottle from the table and took a big swig. Obviously Jack was in a bad way, otherwise he would never have got the bottle to his mouth. Instead he waited.

Slowly, the other man raised his head and this time John had to physically brace himself. He had always loved Jack’s eyes, laughing blue and expressive, but the eyes that turned to him were blood shot, watery, and dead, staring out of a face almost gaunt to the point of skeletal. “What do you want, John?” he said, enunciating each word separately, almost a threat. 

“Is that any way to greet an old friend, especially one who has spent the last several months tracking you down?” John said, trying for casual. That was the best way of dealing with him now, at least he hoped it was. 

“Congratulations, you found me, now lose me again. Took you that long, should have been a hint. Or did you come to gloat? See the monster I finally became?”

“Jack…” he said softly, trying to keep his pain at the statement hidden. Jack was goading him, and while a good fight was probably at least part of what he needed, right here was neither the time nor the place. “Do you really think this is what Eyecandy would have wanted, or your grandson either for that matter?”

“How dare you. What do you know?” his voice went up and John noticed the bartender duck and several patrons drop credit chips and leave. 

“I know that you saved a good portion of that mudball again, not to mention a portion of the genetic stock that went into both of us, and I know what it cost you. I know that he loved you, and I am almost certain that if Ianto could see you now he would do his best to beat you unrecognizable for what you have done to yourself, not to mention that coat.”

Jack opened his mouth as if to scream at him, but nothing came out. For several long minutes they just looked at each other over the filthy table. Finally his eyes dropped and he poured himself another drink before passing the bottle back to John and draining his own glass. “Who told you?”

“I was in the neighbourhood. Just missed you, actually. Stopped by, saw Gwen. If I had known…”

“You would have done what? Died for me, like everyone else? There was nothing anyone could do and now…What do I do? I don’t know how to live anymore, and I can’t die.” The last word came out as a pure cry of anguish, before his head hit the table, buried in his filthy sleeve. 

“Jack,” he said, resting one hand in his former lover’s hair. He wanted to take him, to hold him, but John wasn’t sure he would let him, wasn’t sure that he was ready for any comfort yet. “You can’t mourn forever. It isn’t what anyone wants. Besides, what about Earth, and Torchwood? What about Gwen?”

“They are better off without me. I’m no good to anyone now. Just leave me alone to mourn.”

“Fine, but you can’t mourn forever. You can’t drink yourself to death every six months or so until the end of the universe. Take your time, then when you’re ready, pull yourself together and head back to Earth. They need you.”

“I can’t, I don’t know when I will be ready. Besides, UNIT can take care of things from here out.”

“Jack, you can’t. Gwen is trying to rebuild, determined to do it is more like. She sent me out here to find you and bring you back. Take your time, get yourself back together, you’re a time traveller for Goddess’ sake. Take a hundred years, you can be back tomorrow.”

“I can’t travel in time anymore, this thing has been broken for over a century,” he said, raising the leather band, scuffed and dirty even though it was relatively new.

“Fine, but I can. If it’s what you want, I’ll meet you here, in this spot, in a hundred years, then I’ll take you back.”

“What if that’s not enough? What if it is never enough?” He looked up, tears leaving little tracks of clean in the dirty face.

“Maybe I can offer you another option.” This was going to be tricky, but deep inside he hoped it was the choice Jack would make. Maybe it would help a little. He waited for a response but Jack just looked at him, tears still flowing silently down his face. “Let’s go get 'em. Make sure they never manage to do it to another race. Call it a memorial, a little payback.”

“Don’t you think I tried that? Tried to find out who they were? I tried, no one knew anything,” he said. He was getting angry again, and John felt his heartbeat pick up, if he could get Jack fighting again, that would be all it took.

“I know you did, but you were asking in the wrong places. I got a copy of that signal of theirs from Gwen, reminded me of something I heard once, when I was…well, the less said about that… but I have a lead, and a ship, and maybe, just maybe I’m feeling like a little payback of my own. They could have wiped out my ancestors, and then where would I be?” He tried to play it down, knew that Jack wouldn’t believe altruism, not from him, but he wouldn’t believe the truth either. 

“Why?” Jack asked, piercing him with a stare that in spite of his condition was still laser sharp when he could summon the will. 

“Call it a favour for an old friend. Call it anything you like, does it really matter? The question is do you want it, are you ready to pull your ass out of that bottle and do something?”

“You’re one to talk,” the immortal said.

 

“Yes, I am. One time offer, Jack. Take it or leave it.” This was it, he had done his best. If it didn’t work now, it never would. John was starting to think about stunning him, or possibly leaving and coming back in a hundred years and trying again. 

“Take it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one a long time ago. Its not a fun story, but comments always welcome.


End file.
